Operation Newsboy
by AlexCraigWrites
Summary: The Legends are just minding their own business when a sizable time quake rips through the Time Stream. The aberration? Someone has screwed with the 1899 Newsboy Strike and it's having enormous consequences. The Legends are dispatched to fix the aberration. Or, rather, they dispatch themselves. 2018 is in chaos, due to The Corporation. This the 2012 musical.
1. Prologue

**Yoooo, I'm back!**

 **I didn't actually expect to post this quickly. Then again, this is a brand new story that I literally just started like an hour ago. I was trying to work on my existing stories (for once), but this little plot got stuck in my head and wouldn't leave me alone. And then I really liked this chapter, and I wanted to post it, so here we are.**

 **Soooo, yeah.**

 **A crossover between Legends of Tomorrow and Newsies, the musical (the recent Broadway one). This was unexpected even to me. But Legends is about, like, saving historical events and stuff, and this is a (partially fictionized) historical event.**

 **Honestly, these two shows are just a few of my recent obsessions, but to be fair, I just discovered Newsies, and it's on Netflix, and I've watched it three times in as many weeks.**

 **But if** **you're wondering which versions of the newsies I'm describing, it's the ones that are on the Netflix version.**

 **And for the usual disclaimer:**

 **I do not own Newsies. That's Disney. I do not own DC's Legends of Tomorrow. That's DC. Obviously. It's in the title. I wish I could go _see_ Newsies on stage, let alone own it.**

 **-Alex**

Manhattan, New York

July 13, 1899

The man sat, undetected, near the rooftop where his target lived. He could hear his target, along with someone else, actually _singing_.

He listened, and he learned two things he never wanted to know: the boy with his target was the closest thing they both had to family. Both orphans. So young and full of life.

The man shook his head. He was on a mission, and he couldn't afford to be distracted.

After all, he had 500,000 reasons to be at the height of his game.

" _Work the land! Chase the sun! Swim the whole Rio Grande just for fu-u-un!_ " He could still hear the two kids, singing about their hopes and dreams.

And he'd be the one to take it all away.

 _Snap out of it, Helix!_ He thought, shaking his head vigorously. Of course, Helix wasn't his real name. Just a codename The Corporation gave him for this mission. People like him didn't keep their names for long.

A bell rang, somewhere in the distance.

Helix knew what he had to do.

He knew when he'd do it.

He waited in the shadows as the two kids made their way off the roof, down to their jobs.

Helix followed them at a distance, staying in the shadows. It _was_ what he did best.

He looked down at the paper he was holding once more. It was a color picture of a boy with curly black hair, walking and talking and laughing with a couple of his friends. At the bottom, in large, block letters, the boy's name, along with the deadline for the job.

Jack Kelly. 7/14/1899.

 **Heeheehee. Yep. evil Corporations, assassins, Jack's in imminent danger. Oh, and the evil assassin dude wants to cause a major shift in history. I mean, I love Jack as well, but he's targeted for the sake of the** **story.**

 **There's gonna be some _really_ angry Legends coming along soon. 'Cause someone screwed with time, and they want it un-screwed. I mean, that's their job.**

 **Also, this takes place pre-season four premier on Legends. No Constantine(though I like his character) and no screwed up magical unicorns or fairy godmothers.**

 **-Alex**


	2. Overture

**HIIIIIIIIII! I (think) I told you this was going to be a quick update!**

 **I mean, it's not 1,000 words, like usual, but this chapter was more of a flop then the last one, and I needed a good chapter restart. Also, I didn't have school because of Veteran's Day. Happy Veteran's Day to all you Americans!  
**

 **And yes, for the chapter titles, I did use the song titles. I might re-use some and write reprise in** **parentheses or just write "part two" if I don't think the next title would fit the chapter. So, yes, this one's called Overture. You know, the music that kinda just appears before all the action and/singing starts.**

 **Nothing else to say here.**

 **-Alex**

The Time Stream

It's/Every/Date

Sara and the Legends sauntered back into the control room of the Waverider, victorious after a rather _weird_ mission. They hadn't encountered any magic so far, despite Constantine's multiple warnings.

Suddenly, a large time quake shook the ship, nearly knocking over its occupants.

"Gideon?" Sara asked. "What was that?"

" _It appears to be a time quake, Captain._ " Gideon replied.

"Don't get smart with me." Sara warned.

"Where did it originate?" Nate asked.

" _Manhattan, New York, on July 13, 1899._ "

"No way!" Nate gasped.

"Who screwed with what this time?" Sara asked, exasperated.

"New York in July, 1899?" Nate asked. "C'mon, it's like the most important strike _ever_."

"Nate, pretend I don't know what happened then."

"That was the Newsboy Strike of 1899! A bunch of boys—newsies— led a strike against the two biggest newspaper-owners in New York—Joseph Pulitzer and William Randolph Hearst!"

"Why does time care so much about that?"

"It played a huge part in later strikes, the treatment of newsboys, and child labor!"

"So, like, they got better pay?"

"That was when people started paying attention to child labor. Like, _actually_ noticing it."

"Why do people have to screw up time this much?" Sara cried.

"Well—"

"That was rhetorical, Nate." She stopped. "Gideon, can you please call the rest of the crew in here?"

" _Of course, Captain Lance._ "

After a few minutes, Mick, Zari, Ray, and Wally walked in to the control room, where Nate and Sara were waiting.

"Sara?" Wally asked. "Does this have to do with why the ship was shaking a few minutes ago?"

"Yeah, and it's called a time quake." Sara replied.

"A 'time quake'? What, are we on some sort of temporal fault line?"

"A time quake is when some time traveler messes up something something big or important, like changing an important historical event."

"So...we screwed something up on our mission?"

"Hey, _we_ didn't screw up. Not this time, at least." Sara said. "Someone else did. Gideon?"

" _According to my historical records, in 1899 New York, a boy, Jack Kelly, was murdered on July 13, one day before he launched the 1899 New York Newsie Strike. The police investigated but never found his killer._ "

"So...that's bad?"

" _Jack Kelly's strike went on to inspire multiple others, starting a movement for fair working conditions for child laborers across the United States. Without him, the strike is never launched, and...oh, dear._ "

"What?" Sara almost looked afraid to ask.

" _Without that strike, multiple others don't occur, and child labor is never outlawed._ "

"That sucks," Mick grunted.

Sara shot a pointed glance at him. "Alright, Gideon, set a course for Manhattan, New York, July 12, 1899."

"But the kid isn't killed until the next day, and the strike happens on the next!" Zari protested.

"A) the kid is killed in the early morning, and B) this isn't just some fluke. Some time traveler has deliberately killed this kid, and something tells me they're gonna make sure he's dead, whether it's the thirteenth or the fourteenth or any day after that." Sara said. "Go strap in. We're going to go save New York's little guys."

##*##

Manhattan, New York

7/12/1899

Once the Legends landed the Waverider in some empty space, they gathered around to make a plan.

"So, how're we gonna make sure this little punk doesn't get dropped?" Mick asked.

"Why don't we just remove him from the timeline?" Zari asked.

"That could work," Ray said. "Sara?"

"Let's do it." Sara decided. "Hey Gideon, can you manufacture some clothes for this time period?" She called up to the AI.

" _Of course, Captain._ "

##*##

The Legends walked out of the Waverider, clad in their new 1899 fashion.

"So, what now, Sara?" Nate asked.

"Split up. Gideon said that there were three possible spots this kid could be selling at. Zari and Nate'll take Houston and 152nd street, me and Ray'll get Maiden Lane and Utopia Parkway, and Mick, you get Wall Street and Broadway."

"What about me?" Wally complained.

"You do your thing. Run around, see if this kid—"

"His name's Jack Kelly," Nate interrupted.

Sara shot him a glance. "Fine. Check and see if _Jack_ is somewhere else, like his house, or a restaurant or something. Just...make sure no one sees you...do your...lightning thing."

"Aye, aye, Captain." He saluted.

"And stay on comms. You find him, you call us. And don't let that kid out of your sight."

"How're we going to get there?" Zari asked.

"Take a Hansom Cab." Nate said. "Or a taxi."

"Nate, you're such history nerd." Zari replied as they walked into the streets of Manhattan.

"I like to think of myself as more of a history buff." He retorted.

"Nate…" Zari began, but then they walked out of earshot.

"Hey, Mick, do you want a ride?" Wally asked mischievously.

"Not—" Mick began, but Wally whisked him off anyway.

"Come on, Sara," Ray held out his arm, "let's take a stroll."

"Ray, you do realize that I'm not some damsel who needs help walking, right?"

He pulled his arm away. "Please don't kill me." He looked down at the dress she was wearing. "But that dress looks awfully heavy."

Sara laughed as they started to make their way into the streets of Manhattan.

"Oh, my God, Ray, you have no idea."

 **I've actually got 880 words this chapter. Sorry! I'll try(emphasis on try) to make the next one longer, but that takes longer, so...**

 **Also, if I got the streets horribly wrong, forgive me. I'm Californian. I've never been to the East Coast (unless airports count). Also, the internet was being uncooperative, so the best I could do was get historically accurate streets.**

 **And there were, apparently, taxis in 1899. Who knew? Besides Nate, I mean.**

 **So...yeah.**

 **Peace!**

 **-Alex**


	3. Overture (reprise)

**Hey! Twice in one day! D'you think it's fate?**

 **Just a relevant Newsies quote for you.**

 **But I posted! Twice in a day! I'm so proud of me!**

 **The sad thing is is that I've updated this story twice in a day, and three times this weekend, but I _still_ haven't updated a story I'm working on.**

 **It's been five or six months for that one. yIkEs.**

 **If you like that story in question...sorry. But this one is definitely my favorite fic so far. Or at all.**

 **And I forgot to mention this earlier: I know Wally isn't part of the Legends anymore, but I kinda need him for this f** **ic to work, and it just made it easier if he was still with the Legends.**

 **I promise the musical bit starts next chapter. Though theres a bit of action here. Ooh and a Jack point of view!**

 **-Alex**

 **P.S.: there's a semi-history lesson at the end. Kinda entertaining, kinda ridiculous.**

 **P.P.S.: I did change one of the interactions Jack has with the Legends because reasons, so...yeah.**

Manhattan, New York  
7/12/1899

Jack Kelly was busy hawking papers somewhere in between Jacobi's Deli and the Newsboy Lodge when he noticed someone watching him.

He walked over to around the place where he saw his stalker lurking, pretending to be hollering headlines.

"Extra! Extra! 'Dozens Injured in Train Accident'! Youse heard it 'ere!" That wasn't the actual headline. The headline was actually 'Trolley Strike Drags On', but they'd had the same headline for weeks. Hey, the kid's got to eat. Plus he said he heard it there. Any potential customer _did_ hear it there.

As Jack had hoped, the guy watching him, a man, came up to buy a paper.

"Uh...how much for a paper?" The man asked. His accent was well-educated, and _definitely_ not from New York. His clothes were nice and fresh, and they looked brand-new. Ohhhh, Jack was gonna have so much fun with this guy. But the guy kept talking, and gave Jack a con on a silver platter. "What is it? Like, 25 cents?"

Jack's eyes nearly popped out of his head. This guy may have had a school education, but in street matters? He was a novice. Jack tried to hide the contempt and amazement out of his voice. "Yessir, just a quarter for the evenin' pape."

"Alrighty," the guy said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bright, shiny quarter and plopped it into Jack's hand. Jack eagerly fumbled out a paper from his bag. _Oh, wait 'til the boys hear 'bout this!_ He thought.

"Thank you, Mr.…?" He asked.

The guy wasn't expecting that. "Uh, Palmer. Ray Palmer."

"Thank youse, Mr. Palmer!" Jack said, beaming. A quarter! That could be worth four days of food, easy!

"See you around, kid." Ray said, looking slightly pleased that he made this kid's day.

"See youse around, Mr. Palmer." Jack said.

Jack had just moved to a new vantage point when another guy came up to him. He looked gruff, with a buzz cut and clothes that uncannily reminded Jack of Mr. Palmer's clothes. It was one of those guys Jack was wary about conning.

"You got a paper for me?" The man asked gruffly. It seemed to Jack that was the only way he did things.

"Ahh, yessir. The…" Jack had barely took the paper from his bag when the gruff man shoved a dollar bill in Jack's hand and walked away without a word. "Bless youse, sir!" Jack called after him. _A dollar!_ He thought. _Boy, I's gettin' lucky today! Aw, I can't wait—_

Jack's thoughts were interrupted when a weird-smelling cloth started smothering him. He tried to yell, scream for help, from his brothers, from anyone…

But his world went black.

##*##

"Mick!" Sara cried when he arrived back at the Waverider with Jack Kelly slung over his shoulders, thoroughly unconscious. "I told you to bring him here, not knock him out!"

"I didn't feel like getting a black eye," Mick grunted. "The kid looked like he could hold himself in a fight."

"He's just a kid!" Sara protested. Mick just grunted, and she sighed. "At least take him to the infirmary."

Once Mick roughly laid the kid in an infirmary bed, everyone gathered back in the control room.

"So, Gideon," Sara started. "Did we fix the anachronism?"

" _It appears not, Captain._ " Gideon replied.

"What? How? We removed the kid from the timeline!" Sara complained.

" _It appears that once Mr. Kelly's friends discovered he was missing, and the price of their papers was raised a few days later, they launched the strike in his name._ "

"Isn't that a good thing?" Ray asked. "We want the strike to happen."

" _It also appears that once our assassin discovered that Mr. Kelly was missing, he killed different boys, warning the rest to call off the strike or he'd kill more boys._ "

"Damn it!" Sara yelled, whacking the controls.

"What do we do now?" Zari asked.

"I've got an idea!" Wally said.

Everyone looked at Wally, even the floating holographic head of Gideon.

"Would you care to tell us this brilliant idea?" Zari asked, her usual sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Wally's cheeks pinkened. "We-we put someone undercover with the newsboys, one of us, to keep them safe. Therefore, Jack Kelly starts his strike, and no one else gets killed."

"That's a great idea!" Zari said, and Wally felt pretty good about himself. "That is, if any of us could pass for newsboys. Sara and I aren't even boys, and you boys can't pass for teenagers."

Wally's hopes dropped.

"You forgot about Wally." Sara said. "He actually _is_ a teenger."

Before any of them could make any more plans, a bleary Jack Kelly walked in, carrying a giant syringe threateningly. "Who the hell are youse!" He yelled, and looked around. "And where the hell are we?"

"Oops." They all muttered. Well, Mick and Sara muttered a few _choice_ expletives.

"Hey! Youse are the guys that paid for the overpriced papes!" He yelled.

"This isn't what you think," Wally said.

Jack scoffed. "This is why I don't drink no Coca-Cola. My brother tried it one time. Said he was seein' weird stuff." He stopped. "Youse didn't give me no Coca-Cola, did youse?"

"You have a brother?" Ray asked, stalling for time.

"Whatsit to ya?" Jack growled back.

Most of the Legends were hiding grins, until Zari leaned over to Nate. "Does he think he's high on soda?" She whispered.

"In the early versions of Cokes, they put cocaine as a 'secret ingredient'." Nate whispered back.

Zari snorted in disbelief.

"Hey!" Jack yelled. "I's talkin' to youse!"

"You know what, Jack? We're sorry. And we'll also take you back to your house." Sara said.

Jack's syringe hand faltered. "You-youse will?"

"Yeah. Just give us the syringe."

"Don't try no funny business," He warned. He chucked the syringe at the Legends. Sara slowly walked towards Jack, and picked up the needle. Then, swiftly, she pulled out her stolen-sorry, _borrowed_ -Time Bureau memory flasher.

"Sorry, Jack," she said softly, and pulled the trigger. She then turned to Wally. "Go get dirtied up," She said. "You have a band of newboys to join."

 **1,030 words. Yay!**

 **Also the Coca-Cola thing is actually true. Cocaine comes from a plant called _coca_ , and I think that's why they call it _Coca_ -Cola. Yep, everyones' favorite soda was made with now-illegal drugs...That's America for you!  
**

 **So...Yeah. Wally's joining the newsies! Is he gonna fail tremendously, like he did at buying a paper?**

 **Random thought: He'd make an amazing pickpocket, just speeding around faster than the speed of sound.**

 **Random thought 2: If he lives with the newsies-to keep an eye on Jack-how is he supposed to keep a speedster diet? The newsies usually go hungry, let alone a speedster on a speedster diet. And now I wish I hadn't thought of that, cuz that's** **gonna be fun to work out.**

 **OOOOOF.**

 **Anyways, read & review! Constructive criticism(and maybe even any helpful, logical criticism) welcome!**

 **-Alex**


	4. Overture (reprise 2)

**Hi! Back again! I had no school today, due to a "smoke day", they called it. Like a snow day for Californians, I guess? Eh. So I worked on this chapter, and there _might_ be a chapter later. _Mi_ _ght_ , because I don't want to make any promises.**

 **I know this is like the third chapter of the same name, but I promise, the plot starts real soon. I just need to, like, get the creepy prologue, introduce the Legends, get the ball(plotline) rolling, and then get Wally settled in the Lodging House. And there's the fact that I can't write long chapters, unless it's a one-shot or my other story, Origins Lost. (shameless promo there)**

 **I also couldn't resist this ending.**

 **-Alex**

 **P.S: shoutout to Jack The Bean Stalk for being the first follow and favorite, and Organ 777 for being the first follower! I'm glad you like my story!**

When Jack came to, he was sitting against the wall, his bag of newspapers on his lap.

"Hey. Hey. Are you awake?" A kid was standing in front of Jack. The kid was wearing hand-me-down-looking clothes. Jack groaned. "Oh, you're awake!" He said. He offered a hand to pull Jack up, and Jack took it, standing up and groaning.

"Aw, feels like a herd of horses been tramplin' my head," Jack muttered.

The kid smiled. "I know what that feels like."

"Who-who is ya?" Jack stumbled, and the kid put Jack's arm around his shoulder.

"I'm Wally," the kid, Wally, said.

"I'm Jack," Jack said. Wally bit back the urge to say 'I know.'

"Do you have a place to go? A home, or—"

"The only home I's got is the Lodge."

"Can you give me directions?"

"Yeah, sure."

The two boys kept walking down the street, Jack stumbling every so often.

Finally, they made it to a building with a sign that said 'Newsboy Lodging House' in large letters.

"This is it," Jack said. Wally unhooked Jack from around his shoulder, then opened the door. Before Jack went inside the Lodge door completely, he turned to Wally. "Hey, do youse got a place to sleep?"

"Uh, does the park count?"

"No. Come in. We's got a bed for ya. I think."

"Th-thanks," Wally said. They went inside, trying to find a bed for Wally. It was relatively easy, considering the rest of the boys were still out there selling papers.

"Eh, no problem. Ey, how's 'bout you come with me, tomorrow, to sell the papes? Unless you's got a job."

"I don't have a job, but I don't want to trouble you."

"Eh, no trouble! Weasel makes more money the more papes he sells to the newsies." The two boys stopped near a clean bed. "Ah, here's a bed for youse. It's next to the door to the roof, but—"

"It's a bed. Better than where I thought I'd be sleeping tonight." Secretly, Wally was ecstatic. He knew that Jack slept on the roof, and this was as close as he could get.

"Good. Youse got anything to put down? Somethin' to mark ya spot?" Jack asked.

"I-I got my hat." He said. It was just a newsie cap.

"Yeah, no, that's gonna get stolen."

"You steal each others' stuff?" Wally asked in disbelief.

"Mostly for jokes or somethin'. The boys always gives it back. Usually." He added quietly.

Suddenly, the door banged open. "Is anyone here?" Someone called.

"Crutchie!" Jack called. "We's up here!"

After a few minutes, and a few muffled _thumps_ , a kid of about fifteen, with shaggy blond hair and a crutch staggered up the stairs.

"Hey, Jack!" The blond boy, Crutchie, said. "Who's the new kid?"

"This is Wally. He needs a spot to sleep. And work." Jack said. "Oh, yeah, Crutchie!" He said, like he was just remembering something. "Today, when I were sellin' papes, two random guys came up to me to buy a paper!"

"That's your job, Jack." Crutchie teased him, his face deadpan.

"Yeah, but the first guy gave me a quarter! All I's did was hawk the headline!"

"No way!" Crutchie breathed, his eyes as big as, well, quarters.

"Yeah! And the second man, he gaves me a dollar! A dollar!" Wally could guess at who the two guys were.

"Aw, Jack, it's just you's pale, pitiful, mug that sells all the papes." Crutchie said teasingly, and they gave each other a high five.

After a few minutes of joking about the people they conned, Crutchie stood up. "Hey, the boys said they was goin' to Jacobi's afta sellin'. You comin'?"

"Yeah," Jack said.

"Who's Jacobi?" Wally asked.

"Oh, Mr. Jacobi runs the deli. He lets us hang out there, before he lets his customers in."

"Cool. What d'you do, perform large dance numbers or something?" Wally meant it as a joke, and then quickly realized he was being too proper. "I mean, like, dance crazy dances?"

Jack and Crutchie shared a look. "Eh, occasionally."

Wally was gaping at them. "Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Lead the way, Captain Jack." Wally said.

##*##

Wally watched, trailing a bit behind Crutchie, Jack as pushed the door open to Jacobi's Deli, where a few of the newsies were already waiting.

"Afternoon, gents!" A tall kid with light brown hair and a cigar sticking out of his mouth called. "Who's the new kid?"

Wally raised his hand in a small wave. "I'm, uh, Wally." Truthfully, he was a bit put out with the fact that a teenaged just had a giant cigar in his mouth.

The kid smirked. "What's the matter? Ain't youse sure?"

"I—" Wally began, but Jack saved him from complete embarrassment.

"Ah, Race, lay offa' 'im. Your ugly mug is enough to scare anyone."

The kid, Race, put an exaggerated hand over his heart. "Why, Jack, youse say that to all the fellas, don'tcha?"

"Just for youse, Race." Jack replied.

Crutchie limped off somewhere, talking to some other boys.

The boys stayed there for hours, joking, teasing, and yes, even a dance or two. More kids showed up, and introduced themselves to Wally, who amazed them all with the fact that he actually _had_ an education.

When the little party ended, and the boys walked in a large gaggle back to the lodging house. The newsies were laughing and joking like nothing was wrong, but Wally couldn't shake the feeling that someone-or some _thing_ -was watching them, but every time he turned around, nothing was there.

They all arrived at the Lodging House with no incident, and they were settled in their beds when a bright yellow and red flash illuminated the window.

Wally jumped up, whacking his head on the upper bunk above him, which was occupied by Romeo, one of the boys he met at the deli earlier.

"Wally?" The groggy voice of Romeo popped up from above. "What're youse doin'?"

Wally didn't answer, just ran out the door as fast as he possibly could without doing his "lightning thing".

Not a second later, Race spoke up. "Romeo, youse owes me a nickel. I's told youse that he'd do somethin' weird before the night's over."

##*##

As soon as the door closed, Wally raced after the flash of red light. _The Particle Accelerator doesn't explode for the first time in 115 years_ , he thought. _This is worth checking out, even if it's not my time assassin._ Then that really annoying, small voice in the back of his head whispered, _what if it's a diversion? A diversion to get you away from Jack, and your friendly neighborhood time assassin knows who you are, waiting for the right moment to—_

"Shut up!" He yelled loudly, in an attempt to quell the voices in his head.

The guy he was chasing stopped whirled around, his feet sliding on the pavement. Wally stopped just in time to avoid barreling over the other speedster.

"Wally?" A familiar voice said, pulling off the cowl over his face.\

" _Barry_?"

 **1,175. Sadly, I think this one's the longest chapter. Sigh.**

 **But that ending, though. I have no actual clue where I'm going with this whole Barry's-in-1899 thing. My mind just needed to make this a** **little less crappy.**

 **Random stupid note: I was watching random backstage Newsies videos and one of the actors was going around asking people what their secret talents are(I think it was Corey Cott). Apparently, Ben Fankhauser(the guy who plays Davey in the original cast and the movie) does a mean magic trick. And then he got to Andrew Keenan-Bolger(the guy who plays Crutchie), and he said he could shake his eyes, and for some reason that made me oddly happy, because I can do the same thing.**

 **Random note 2: I found a website that has the whole Newsies script and music sheets, all real and legal!** **news/read-disneys-newsies-for-free-ahead-of-march-1st-general-release  
You're welcome.**

 **Random note 3: I tried Grammarly for this fic and it's not that great for stories, especially when there's a bunch of newsies using "I's", "youse", "** **gaves", etc. And the stuff that might actually help my writing(plagiarism detection, word choice, etc,) cost money per month! It was like $11.99, which is $144 per year! (American dollars, by the way). So, screw Grammarly.**

 ** _Anyways_ , see you later!**

 **-Alex**


	5. Santa Fe

**Hiiiiii! I know I kinda said I'd post one last night or this morning, but I got distracted(major shocker!) and this chapters actually quite long! Yay! Although, that's partly due to the fact I used a bit(maybe a lot) of the Carrying The Banner song, and quite a bit of the dialogue. I tried to trim it down, and I dunno if it turned out crappy or half-way decent. But I tried!**

 **And I did figure out what to do with Barry. Hehehehe...**

 **Also, Thanksgiving break! A breeding ground for fanfiction writing! Happy Thanksgiving, to those who celebrate it. And if you celebrate something else, happy holidays! I know Diwali was like two-ish weeks ago, so happy Diwali! Yeah, those are the only two November holidays I know.**

 **Oh, and I based Barry's scar on a cut I got one time. Beause I felt like it, and that's really the only reason I do things.**

 **Also, some mild language up ahead.**

 **-Alex**

Barry's Flash suit cowl hung behind his head, his face of absolute shock. To Wally's own shock, there was something new about Barry: there was a scar running from the corner of his eye to between his nose and his lip. It was thick and pale against his tan skin.

" _Wally_? What the hell? Why are you in 1899?" He asked, running his hand through his hair.

"I-I'm here with the Legends. W-what happened to your face?" He asked, unsure of how he felt about these circumstances.

"I've told you the story before," He grumbled. "You know I don't like to talk about it."

"No…Barry, you haven't."

"Wally, don't drag that into this," he said.

"I don't know what you're…oh. _Oh_." Realization dawned on Wally. "Barry…humor me. Where'd you get that scar?"

"You know how!" He said, probably a bit louder than he should. Wally gave him the _just-do-it-you-big-idiot_ stare. "Fine! The knife fight over newsie turf, okay? Jeesh!"

"Oh, dammit," Wally muttered. "I told you I was here with the Legends. This kid was killed when he wasn't supposed to be, and he was supposed to ignite a strike that'd end child labor…We're here to save the kid."

"What do you mean, 'end child labor'? That's still a thing in 2017, Wally. Let alone the 20th century."

"It's the time ripples. This kid I'm protecting dies, then he doesn't set off a strike in two days, and child labor isn't abolished like it was supposed to be, in the '30s."

Barry just stared at the guy he considered his brother for a few seconds.

"So…" Wally tried to break the silence. "You still haven't told me why you're here."

"The goddamn Thinker," he muttered. He didn't offer any more insight.

"Would you look at that?" Wally teased. "The great Barry Allen, cussing like a sailor."

"Shut up," he mumbled, and playfully punched Wally's arm.

##*##

When Wally made it back to the Lodge(it didn't take that long considering he ran there and back), the boys were all sitting on their beds cross-legged, mischievous grins plastered on their faces.

"Oh, no," he muttered when he saw the boys.

"Oh, yes," they all said.

"So why'd youse run out of 'ere like that, eh?" Race asked.

"Uh…" Wally couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"Youse got yourself a nickname now!" Romeo crowed.

"Speedy!" The boy who slept under Race, Sniper, called.

"Yeah!" All the boys yelled.

"Ey! Quiet down, we's tryin' to sleep 'ere." Henry said loudly.

"A'ight," the boys mumbled.

And despite himself, Wally could feel himself smiling as he fell asleep.

##*##

Manhattan, New York

July 13, 1899

" _Wally! Wally! Wally! Wally!_ " Wally groaned and rolled over in bed. There was a tinny voice shouting in his ear.

" _Waaaaaallllllyyyyyyyyy!_ " The voice shouted, even louder this time. " _Wally! Get your ass out of bed! That's an order!_ " Finally, Wally stirred, and recognized Sara's voice from the comms in his ear.

"What?" He whispered, wary of waking his new friends up.

" _You remember why you're there, right? Save Jack Kelly, save the child labor ban? He's supposed to be killed soon!_ "

"How long?" He whispered, shaking the sleep out of him.

" _Fifteen minutes, max! Let's go!_ "

Wally slipped out of bed, walking as silently as possible to the door. He opened it, then slipped out.

"Eh, New York's fine for those who got a big, strong door to lock it out." He could hear Jack's voice, presumably talking to Crutchie. "But, I tell ya, Crutchie, there is a whole 'nother way out there!" Wally stayed in hiding, not wanting to intrude on whatever conversation was going on up there. He looked around, checking to see if there were any nefarious people hanging around. But there was no one.

Jack's voice cut through his thoughts once more. " _They say folks is dyin' to get here. Me, I'm dyin' to get away. To a little town out west that's spankin' new._ "

Wally's jaw dropped. He knew that the newsies danced on random occasions, but singing? He didn't expect that. He sat, knowing that the time assassin wouldn't kill Jack with Crutchie around. And if Wally had anything to do with it, then he wouldn't kill Jack at all.

" _Close your eyes. Come with me. Where it's clean and green and pretty._ " Wally could hear all of Jack's dreams laid out bare for two unexpected people to hear.

" _There's a life that's worth the livin'. And I'm gonna do my share! Work the land! Chase the sun! Swim the whole Rio Grande just for fu-u-un!_ " Wally felt slightly guilty listening to something so personal, but it was worth it if he could save his new friend.

" _Just hold on, kid, 'til that train makes Sa-anta Fe._ " The morning bell tolled, and Wally scooted towards the ladder to the roof. "Hey, Specs! Racer, Henry, Albert, Elmer! Get a move on! Them papes don't sell themselves!"

Wally waited for Crutchie to climb down the ladder before he made his move.

"Oh, hey, Wally." Crutchie said.

"I, uh, need to talk to Jack," Wally said.

"Oookaaay," Crutchie walked into the Lodge.

Wally started climbing the ladder, then had an idea. "Hey, Jack, I need to talk to you!"

Jack stuck his head over the ladder. "Okay?"

Wally finally reached the top of the ladder. He was at a total loss about what to say to Jack, given that he came up here on a whim. "It's, uh, about selling spots! You, uh, haven't told me where to sell. Or how to sell. Or who to sell to…"

Jack looked completely off-guard. "Youse…just come sell with me. I'll teach ya the ropes."

Secretly, Wally was happy. He had needed an excuse to stay by Jack's side all day. Suddenly he heard a slight noise, like a pebble being dislodged off a roof. Wally whipped his head around, but there was nothing in the pre-dawn light.

Jack was looking at him with one eyebrow raised. "Sorry, I thought I heard something."

"Is that all?" Jack asked.

"Yeah," he said and cleared his throat. "Uh, after you."

When they walked through the roof access door, everyone was out already, in front of the Lodge, waiting for Jack, Wally supposed.

Wally was trailing behind Jack like a small puppy, but when he pushed open the front door, he did not get what he was expecting.

As soon as Jack stepped out of the threshold, he started singing. Again.

" _It's a crooked game we're playin', one we'll never lose. 'Long as suckers don't mind payin', just to get bad news._ " Jack sang.

Before Wally could say anything, the other newsies joined in, too.

" _Ain't it a fine life, carryin' the banner through it all. A mighty fine life, carryin' the banner tough and tall. When that bell rings, we goes where we wishes, we's as free as fishes, sure beats washin' dishes. What a fine life, carryin' the banner home free all._ " An unfortunate rich-looking lady and her friend walked by, perfectly posed to get incessantly hit on. Which is what Romeo and Jack immediately did, of course.

"Well, hello, hello, hello, beautiful." Romeo said.

"Woah, step aside, Romeo. Nothin' more concerns you here." Jack said, shoving his friend out of his way. "Mornin', miss. May I interest you in the latest news?"

"The paper isn't even out yet," she said.

"Oh, but I'd be delighted to deliver it to you _poisynally_ ," Jack said, stepping closer to the pair who was about to walk away.

Her friend looked like he was about to do something that'd probably get him a black eye, but the lady held up her hand. "I've got a headline for you: 'Cheeky Boy Gets Nothing For His Troubles'." She retorted.

Jack just walked away, still eyeing the lady, and ignoring all the comments from the other newsies.

"Hey, Crutchie," Finch said, "what's your leg say? Gonna rain?"

Crutchie shook his bad leg experimentally. "Uhh…no rain. Oh-oh, partly cloudy, clear by evenin'."

"They oughta bottle this guy!" Finch cried.

"Yeah, and the limp sells 50 papes a week, all by itself!" Race added.

Crutchie looked slightly offended. "I don't need the limp to sell papes. I got _personality_." He stopped, and Wally had a feeling as to what was going to come next. " _It takes a smile that spreads like butter, the kind that turns a lady's head._ "

Wally stalked over to an empty corner, trying to find an empty space to talk with Sara. "Hey, Sara," he said into his comms.

" _Wally? The kid's not dead, is he_?" Sara's reply came quickly.

"Thanks for believing in me, Sara," he joked.

" _How 'bout an update? Did you find our time assassin?_ "

"No, but I think I heard him on the roof earlier, right after you said he was going to murder Jack."

" _Of course he was there. You kinda have to be present to assassinate someone. And since—is that_ singing _?_ "

"Oh, that. Yeah, I think we've found a group of people weirder than us, Sara."

" _Hey, what's the holdup? Waiting makes me antsy, I likes livin' chancey!_ " Finch yelled/sang.

" _I'll take your word on that,_ " Sara said.

Suddenly(and finally), the group started moving, to what Wally hoped was Newsie Square. "Gotta go, Sara."

" _Alright, just remember to be safe._ " The mic crackled, and Mick's voice came over the speaker. " _Hey! Tell that little punk I want my dollar back!_ " Wally could hear Sara slap him on the back of the head. " _Shut it, Rory._ " Wally grinned as he ran to catch up with the newsies.

Much to his chagrin, they didn't arrive at the square. It was a couple of nuns handing out coffee and biscuits. _Oh, thank God!_ Wally thought. _I'm starving!_ He made a mental note to either buy or steal some food later, to supplement his speedster diet.

Finally, after some singing, dancing, and gymnastics, the newsies finally made it to the circulation gate.

"Hey, look, they're putting up the headline!" Finch cried.

"I hope it's bloody, with a nice, clear picture!" Specs replied.

"YEAH!" The boys chorused.

The headline was not, in fact, bloody or with a clear picture. It really read: 'TROLLEY STRIKE ENTERS 3rd WEEK'. The boys all groaned.

"The trolley strike? Not again," Elmer whined.

"Man, three weeks of the same story." Race added.

"They're killing us with that snoozer." Finch jumped in, too.

Just then, two decently dressed guys wearing bowler hats that couldn't be that older than Wally walked up. The only way Wally could think of telling them apart was the fact that one had a vest on and the other didn't. "Hey! Step aside!" they yelled.

"Oh, dear me!" Race mocked. "What is that unpleasant aroma? I fear the sewers may have backed up during the night."

Wally figured these guys weren't exactly buddy-buddy with the newsies.

"Or could it be…" Crutchie began, and everyone joined in.

"The Delancey brothers!"

"Hey, Oscar!" Finch called, walking up to the one without a vest on. "Word on the street says you and your brother took money to beat up striking trolley workers."

"So? It's honest work." Oscar replied. Some of the newsies scoffed.

"By crackin' the heads of defenseless workers?" Albert butted in.

"I take care of the guy who takes care of me," Oscar replied.

 _Wow, it really is a dog-eat-dog world here,_ Wally thought.

Race got into his face. "Hey, ain't your father one of the strikers?"

"I guess he didn't take care of me." Oscar pushed Race.

But before Race could retaliate, the other Delancey started attacking Crutchie. "Hey, you want some of that, too? You lousy crip!" He stole Crutchie's crutch and shoved him to the ground.

Immediately, Jack was on him. He snatched Crutchie's crutch back. "That is not nice, Morris!"

"Hey, five to one Jack skunks him!" Race cried indignantly, while Albert helped Crutchie up. Wally could feel his body tense up with anger.

"One unfortunate day, you might find you have a bum gam of your own," Jack continued. "How would you like us picking on you, eh?" Jack turned towards the newsies. "Hey! Hey, maybe we should find out!" He turned back and whacked Morris in the shin with the crutch, and then spun around and whacked Oscar, too. Despite himself, Wally hissed in empathy. The newsies, however, cheered.

"Wait until we get our hands on you!" Oscar threatened.

"You gotta catch me first!" Jack yelled, and took off like a shot.

"GO, JACK!" The newsies, including Wally this time, cheered. And then, inevitably, they started dancing again. And singing.

"PAPES FOR THE NEWSIES! LINE UP!" An older mustached man yelled.

"Mornin', Weasel! You missed me?" Jack called at the front of the line.

"The name's _Wiesel_ ," the man spat.

"Ain't that what I said?" Jack smirked. "I'll take the usual."

"100 papes for the wise guy," Wiesel called to the Delanceys.

"How's it going, Weasel?" Race said.

"At least call me 'mister'."

"I'll call you 'sweetheart' if you spot me 50 papes, huh?"

"Drop the cash and move along," He said threateningly, but Race wasn't intimidated.

He slapped a few coins on the lockbox. "Whatever happened to romance?" Race said wistfully.

"50 for the Racer. Next!"

The and the other boys went, making various 'Weasel' jokes.

Finally, it was Wally's turn. He said nothing, just lightly placing a quarter on the box.

"Ah, a new kid, huh?" Wiesel said.

"He's called Speedy," one of the younger newsies Wally hadn't met yet called.

"50 papes for Speedy!" Wiesel called.

Another new kid behind Wally with black hair went next. "Would'ya look at this? Two new kids in one day!"

A smaller kid popped out from behind him. "Hey, I'm new, too!"

"Don't worry, kid, it rubs right off." Race called.

Albert went next, making a crack about Wiesel getting into the movie business.

The new kid caused some ruckus about being short a paper, which Jack quickly resolved.

Within seconds, Jack was already trying to strike a deal with the two boys.

Wally was only half-listening, really. He was looking around the square for someone who didn't belong. So far, the most suspicious people he saw were the Delancey brothers and Wiesel, but they didn't exactly scream 'time assassin'. Plus they already had a history with the boys, so…jackasses? Totally. Inter-time period assassins? No.

"Newsies! Hit the streets! The sun is up, the headline stinks, and this kid ain't getting any younger!" Jack yelled.

Then Wally, Jack, and the two new kids, Davey and Les, headed out into the streets, gearing up for a day of selling.

 **2,560 words, about eleven pages! WOW! I know that's not really long at all, but it is for me and this story! And I wrote it pretty fast, too. It's been a productive day. I've read part of a new book, written this chapter, sang Newsies when I was alone, cussed out my chickens a few dozen times, and obssessively watch the show Arrow. Productivity! Oh, and don't forget the few dozen random Newsie-related videos I've watched, including Tommy Bracco(the guy who plays Spot Conlon) and one of the Race actors reading a Sprace(Spot/Race) fanfic. That was just... _interesting_. And another video of Ben Cook and Josh Burrage singing about Newsies. And then there's Andrew Keenan-Bolger and Ryan Steele reading multiple fanfic excerpts...I'm gonna go die laughing in a corner now.**

 **-Alex**

 **watch?v=muqRp-w8d14  
watch?v=8is6oqoe3Ys  
watch?v=G72VwDgoyoI  
**


	6. That's Rich

**Hiya! I know it's been a few days(6? 7?) but it's better than a few months! Right? Also this is pretty long. Ish.**

 **Also: I just realized that I changed a bit of my story on Docs, and forgot to do it here, so I'ma do that. Basically, in the beginning, when Wally and Mick buy excessively overpriced papers? I decided to change Wally into Ray, because he remembers that, and it won't do if the guy who paid 25 cents for a paper is suddenly out on the streets hawking them. Make sense? Good. If it doesn't? Well, shucks. I've fixed it now, so...yeah.**

 **Another thing I screwed with! I was having a hard time writing in third person so I switched it to first. Is it better? Is it worse? Do tell.**

 **Only two more days left of Thanksgiving break! I'ma TRY to get another chapter in, just watch what happens. (Ha. Ha.) Oh yeah, happy Thanksgiving to you American folks! And happy Black Friday! And happy National Espresso (?) day! Yeah, America has WEIRD holidays! And just a general happy holidays because I'm pretty sure I missed some.**

 **Enough with the rambling and the random Newsies references. There were two, in case you were wondering. You probably weren't.**

 **BYE!  
-Alex**

Manhattan, New York  
7/13/1899

The day went on. No (possibly) magical time assassins trying to murder a kid. Nothing _that_ special happened.

Except for the fact that I was _really_ hungry. By the time all of the papers were sold, I was nearly swaying on my feet like I was drunk.

I was standing with Davey, Les, and Jack, and the latter was trying to make plans for the brothers.

Honestly, I was _completely_ spaced out, trying to figure out how to cover all the boys tomorrow during the strike. I overheard Jack's voice, sounding slightly uncomfortable, surprised, and off-put. "Oh, youse got folks, huh?" I could tell he thought they were orphans.

Les, innocent Les, spoke next. "Doesn't everyone?"

I saw Jack shift nervously, and Davey said something quietly to his little brother.

Davey looked at me and Jack, with something between pity and uncertainty. Of course he thought I was an orphan, because no one told him I wasn't. Heck, I hadn't told anyone anything, so I could say I never lied. I just _omitted_ stuff that was semi-important.

"Our dad tangled with the delivery truck on the job. Messed up his leg bad, so they laid him off. That's how come we had to find work." Davey explained, with his specialty mixture of pity and uncertainty clear.

Jack looked uncomfortable, like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Oh, ye-yeah, that makes sense. To-too bad about your dad, though."

Davey had that look in his eyes that I was sure Jack saw a lot: the _oh-you're-poor-lemme-help-you_ look. "Look, why don't you come home with us for dinner? Both of you. Our folks'll be happy to have you."

"Mom's a great cook!" Les blurted.

I wouldn't have minded it at all, especially if it involved food, but Jack looked like a deer in headlights.

"Ah, thanks for the invite. But I-I just remembered, I got plans with a fella! He's probably waitin' on me right now." He looked at me, and it was as if his entire body screamed _HELP!_

I, stupidly, wasn't looking for anyone suspicious. The only few minutes out of the day I wasn't looking…

"Is _that_ the guy you're meeting?" Les yelled.

I looked to where the kid was pointing, and my (empty) stomach plummeted. There was a suspicious looking a guy, slightly resembling a mean pitbull with a mustache who was out looking for blood.

"Kelly!" Pitbull growled. _Well, that rules out some anonymous time assassin, at least,_ I thought. _It's just your friendly neighborhood…pitbull…thug._

Jack's face turned to one of terror. "Run for it!" He said to me and the two brothers.

We ran, me trailing behind to protect the boys who were so important to history. Sure, they might've gotten away originally, but with two time travelers on the table, all bets were off.

We kept on it, ducking and dodging through streets and alleyways, the early evening punctured with the Pitbull's distant calls of "This way, officer!", "Get him!", or the insanely common "Jack Kelly!"

Finally, after ducking through a back door, Wally found himself in what appeared to be the backstage of a theatre.

"Slow down, I think we lost them." Jack heaved. Davey and Les looked totally out of breath as well. I wasn't that out of breath, because of my speedster reasons, but I pretended not to be that out of breath as to not raise any red flags.

"Does someone want to tell me why _I'm_ running?" Davey protested, glaring at me. "I got no one chasing me. Who was that guy, anyway?" I shrugged. I mean, I honestly didn't know.

"That there was Snyder the Spider. A real sweetie." Jack said, with a level of disgust he didn't think was possible.

"I thought he was more of a pitbull," I said. Les smiled, but Jack wasn't having it.

"He runs a jail for underage kids called The Refuge. The more kids he brings in, the more the city pays him. The problem is, all of that money goes straight into his own pocket. Just do yourself a favor. Stay clear of him and The Refuge." Jack looked almost haunted as well as disgusted, and I wondered if he had spent time there.

A lady walked by below us. "Hey, you up there! Shoo! No kids allowed in the theatre!" I thought we were busted before Jack spoke up, all hints of Snyder and his unpleasantness gone from his face.

"Not even me, Ms. Medda?" He called charmingly.

She put her hands on her hips. "Jack Kelly?"

"Yeah!"

"Man of mystery! Come down here and give me a hug!" She called, clearly happy to see Jack.

He ran down and gave the lady, Ms. Medda, a hug. I made a mental note that, when he wanted, Jack could be really charming, inspiring, or threatening, depending on the person. You did _not_ want to be on any side but his good side. Jack kept talking to Ms. Medda, charming her.

"Boys!" Jack said. "May I present to you Ms. Medda Larkin, the greatest star on the Bowery today. She also owns the joint."

"The only thing I own is the mortgage," she joked.

When I turned around, I saw Les, bent over double, gaping at two of the dancers.

Davey tapped Les on the back. "What's wrong with you?"

"Are you blind?" Les retorted. "She got no clothes on!"

I hid a smile. I mean, I knew that 1899 fashion was a bit-scratch that, a lot-more conservative than 2018 fashion, but little Les was just so dumbstruck at the fact that the ladies were wearing just leggings and some kind of leotard. _Oh, God,_ I thought, _if only he walked around in the 21_ _st_ _century for even an hour…_

"That's her costume."

"But I can see her legs!" Les sounded like he'd never seen a lady's leg before. Although, in all honesty, he probably hadn't.

"Well, step out of his way so's he can get a better look." Ms. Medda said. The performers struck a pose, revealing more of the tight leggings. Ms. Medda continued to say something about theatre being educational, but I wasn't really listening, making sure no one was watching us.

Suddenly, a man with a mustache came running in. "Ms. Medda! You're on!" He shouted.

"I am?" Ms. Medda said. "How am I doing?" She looked at the mustache guy, and then scoffed, and then looked at us, and we started laughing. "Boys, lock the door and stay all night. You're with Ms. Medda now."

We followed her to the curtains, Les and Davey watching from behind the curtain, but Jack and I snagged two seats. Ms. Medda continued to sing about being rich, but I wasn't paying much attention to the words. _Again_. _Oh, us millenials and our attention spans,_ I thought jokingly. But it was because Ms. Medda had an amazing voice. When the song was over, Jack gave a standing ovation, and I did, too. I mean, she did hide us from the cops. Well, I guess they weren't cops. Abusive prison wardens?

"And now, gents," she called, "let's have a big hand for the Bowery Beauties!"

"Hey, Wally," Jack said, poking me. "Look who's here." He pointed up to what looked like a theatre balcony.

I looked up, and saw a lady sitting inside. "Wasn't that the girl you were hitting on earlier?"

"Oh, yeah." He had a stupid grin on his face. He ran up to Ms. Medda, who was now off-stage. They conversed quietly, and then Jack ran up to the ladder to the little balcony and climbed in.

I couldn't hear them, but as they talked, Jack's face varied from cheeky to downright flirty, and the girl mostly looked either uncomfortable or mocking. I smiled. _She's gonna have fun with Jack,_ I thought.

I watched the two of them, not exactly sure how it was going to play out. Well, until the girl yelled: "Do you mind?"

Some guy in the audience rapped his cane on the structure. "Pipe down up there!"

"You got in for free!" Ms. Medda called. "At least pay attention!"

Jack whisper-shouted something down, probably something along the lines of _I'm sorry_.

And then he, of course, started serenading her. _Of course_ he did. And…was he drawing something, too? I shook my head. Jack Kelly, the romantic. Who'd have thunk?

The song went along…and so did my attention. _I have issues,_ I thought.

When the song(both Jack's and the ladies') Jack snuck down the ladder, not before leaving something on a chair.

He practically skipped over to Davey, Les, and I. After the brothers left, on our way back to the Lodge, _then_ he started to boast about his serenading epicness.

"Did'ya see that? I's got her hooked!" Jack whooped.

"You sure did, pal." I said. Suddenly, the smell of a bakery wafted into my nose. "Hey, Jack? What's that smell?"

Jack grinned. "Oh, that's the Cooks'. Yep, they's called the Cooks and they cook. If you're hungry"—I could've swear he heard my stomach growling—"they sometimes gives us a loaf of bread."

"Well, I think you know the answer to that question, Jack." I said. I fingered the dollars I took from the Waverider before dragging Jack to the street. There was about $20, which was a lot in this era, especially for the newsies. It was for an emergency, but if this wasn't, I didn't know what would constitute an emergency anymore. Jack started moving into the store, but I put a hand out in front of him. "Lemme try. They don't know me."

Jack shrugged. "Have at 'em."

I walked into the store, slipping my cap into my bag. A newsie with 20 bucks would raise all kinds of alarms. I walked up to the front, where a young girl was sitting, looking quite bored.

"How can I help you today?" She asked, looking like I was the most interesting thing that had happened to her all day.

I looked behind her at the vast shelves of baked goods, breads and pastries galore. "Uh, can I have ten loaves of bread? And one of the pumpkin loaves?"

The girl's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "You got money to pay for it?"

"Yeah." She gave me a once-over, like 'why can this kid afford ten loaves of bread?' Then she shrugged. Business was business.

"$2.50." She said, gathering the load of loaves.

I pulled out some money and gave it to her.

I just really hoped she didn't pay much attention to the dates on the bills.

She handed me the loaves, and I put each in my bag. "Thanks," I said, and flashed a smile at the girl. She just nodded.

I walked outside to where Jack was waiting. He looked at me, and only saw the emptiness of my hands.

"Ah, youse struck out, huh? Well, sometimes they's just want the Jack…" He trailed off when I patted my bulging bag. "No way."

I smirked. "Yes way. Ten loaves of bread, and one pumpkin loaf."

"How'd you…?"

"She just was begging for business. I don't think they sold a thing all day."

"Good on youse! We's'll eat good tonight!" Jack whooped, patting me on the back. "The boys give youse a nickname, right? Speedy?" He asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

"Yes..."

"Why?"

"Becuse...reasons." Jack gave me a look. "Because I saw something out the window last night, right after we blew out the lights, and I chased after it."

"Ah. Good one, Speedy!" Jack laughed, but it wasn't maliciously.

I groaned. "That won't stick, will it?"

Jack just smirked in return.

We walked back to the Lodge, Jack's arm around my shoulder. By the time we got back, the sun was nearly set. As soon as we opened the door, the newsies were on us.

"Where were youse?"

"We's been waitin'!"

"We's thought Snyder got youse!"

Jack held up his hands, and they all quieted down. "Now, me and Wally was busy." He took my bag of bread from my hands. "Seems ol' Wally 'ere has got a bit of charm!" The shouts rang out again.

"Is that bread?"

"WOAH!"

"Did'ya steal that?"

"FOOD!"

"A'IGHT!" Jack yelled. "All of youse get some! Obviously!"

Jack and I distributed the some of the bread to the newsies, and only after we finished did Jack take any. I assumed that was normal, knowing Jack.

The boys all got a large chunk of bread, and against Jack and I's protests, the boys insisted we share a whole loaf.

That night, all of the newsboys at the Newsboy Lodging House went to bed with full stomachs.

I hope that doesn't screw with the timeline.

You know what? Screw the timeline. Just seeing the joy on those kids' faces when they realized they didn't have to go to sleep hungry was enough.

 **2,150! YAY! Words!**

 **If you're confused by the first-to-third person switch, read the above A/N.**

 **I meant to post this last night and I did part of it, but I had to go to sleep.**

 **I don't have anything else to say. Shocking!**

 **BYE!  
-Alex**


	7. I Never Planned on This

**Yo! Sorry this excessively late. Writer's block is fun! So, instead, I worked on another story that I have yet to publish. I'm gonna at least finish this before I even think of that.**

 **I know this isn't actual song title, but there was no song in this chapter, and I Never Planned on You was close enough. And I doubt anyone was expectimg this. Hehehe ;)**

 **Also, even though this is totally random but if you've seen the recent Legends of Tomorrow episode or previews for the upcoming Elseworlds crossover, and are wondering what I think(you're probably not): I think the the writers for those four shows have been reading too much fanfiction. It's gonna be great.**

 **-Alex**

 **WARNING: there is quite a bit of mild language and some graphic violence ahead.**

I shifted awake in my bed, the boys getting ready around me.

"C'mon, Speedy, get up!" Race whacked me in the face with his hat.

I groaned. "Yeah, yeah, I'm up."

Sara's voice crackled in my ear. " _Wally, this is your complimentary 5:00 AM get-your-ass-out-of-bed call. Please get your ass out of bed._ "

I activated my comms, and for the sake of Race and Sara, I said "I'm up!" really loudly.

"Good for you," Race and Sara said, almost simultaneously.

I subtly switched my comms off.

As usual, we got ready to go out and sell papers.

"'Ey, Jack! We is leavin'!" Elmer called.

"Go on without me!" Jack yelled.

Elmer looked at me. "You comin', Speedy?"

"Nah. I'll wait for Jack."

"A'ight." I saw them disappear down the stairs, then heard the tell-tale whoops and yells that meant that the newsies were up and ready for work.

Barely two minutes later, and Jack came down the stairs. "'Ey, is you waitin' for me, Speedy?"

"Yeah, just finished getting up, figured I'd wait." I lied. But how do you say, 'hey, I'm waiting for you so you don't get brutally murdered in the street by some magical time assassin'? Well, I _could_ say that, but I might sound a tad crazy. Okay, I'd sound a lot crazy.

Jack clapped my shoulder. "Aw, I'm touched."

 *** * * # * * ***

We were close, maybe a mile away from the distribution square, when stuff went down.

Jack was talking about the girl he met yesterday, in the theater and on the street, when I got this feeling someone was following us. I whipped my head around, but no one was there.

"What's with you?" Jack chuckled.

I shook my head. "I-it's nothing." I don't know who I was trying to convince, me or Jack. "I thought I heard someone behind us."

Jack looked behind us. "Well, there's no one there. We's are all safe—" An abnormally loud sound exploded somewhere off to the side of us, and I whipped my head around, the world slowing down around me. In the alleyway next to us, on the other side of Jack, I saw a dark figure holding what looked like a modern-age gun. There was a flash of light around the muzzle, and there was a bullet flying out of it. But something was wrong. The bullet was flying fast, faster than what should've been possible. It wasn't a gun from my time; this was a gun from the future. Far into the future. I cursed the people who thought they needed to make guns with faster bullets. There was no time to try and grab it, it would just shred my hand. I dashed in front of Jack, and the bullet meant for his throat made its way into my shoulder. Who knew being tall saved history?

Time unfroze, and I stumbled, the force of the bullet knocking me back as it tore through my flesh and muscle. And it burned. _Damn_ , it burned. "What was that?" Jack asked, and I leaned on him to catch my balance. "Woah there, Speedy." Jack chuckled and then frowned. "Wait. Weren't you just—" He pointed to the other side of him.

"Ow." I groaned.

Jack finally noticed the blood streaming out of my shoulder. "HOLY SHIT!" He leaned me against the side of a building and leaned over me.

"Ow."

"When the hell did that happen?!" At least he lowered his voice.

"Goddamn interdimensional time assassins with futuristic guns," I muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What do I do?"

"Stopping the bleeding would help."

"Speedy, you's got a hole in your shoulder and you's _still_ being a smart-ass?"

"Pain sharpens my tongue."

"You're delusional."

"No, I'm dying of blood loss."

"Speedy, since I's don't want you to die, I'ma let that slide."

"Gee, I'm touched. Can I stop the bleeding now?" Somehow, I wrangled the vest off my chest and ripped a long strip off. I stood up, definitely with a struggle, and tied my makeshift bandage around my shoulder. My shoulder still felt like it was being melted in a forge, but it wasn't streaming out blood anymore. It was less like a river and more like a creek. And then I crouched slightly, making sure my hat and bandage were securely fastened.

"What is you doin'?" Jack asked.

"Something I might regret," I sighed. "Hop on."

"Youse is delusional!" Jack protested. "You just got shot. I's should be carryin' you!"

"Jack," I said sternly. "Get on my back before I pick you up and carry you like a bride on her honeymoon."

He sighed. "I don't know why we's call you 'Speedy'," he grumbled. "we's shoulda called youse Stubborn." He hopped on my back anyway.

"Hold on tight," I warned him.

"I ain't grabbin' your wound!"

"Then hold on to my neck!" Jack muttered something about me dying of strangulation before the blood loss killed me.

"Get ready," I said, shifting my body.

"For what?"

"This." I took off running, as fast as I could go with the shooting pain in my arm and the pain in the ass on my back.

The aforementioned pain in the ass starting yelling, swatting at the lighting around me.

In seconds, we made it to the park where we hid the Waverider. I stopped and let Jack off my back. He stumbled and threw up in a bush. "Yeah, get it out, bud." I patted his back as he upchucked his breakfast and dinner in the bush.

"WHAT THE SHITTIN' HOLY HELL WAS THAT?!" He cried, wiping his face with his sleeve.

"Science."

"That ain't no science! That's like that book Frankenstein!"

I was expecting some comic book reference or something. And then it dawned on me. I "Damn, you don't have superheroes?"

"What?"

"Long story."

Jack opened his mouth to say something when a bay door on the Waverider opened. Sara and Mick came out, their bo staff and heat gun, respectively, pointed at us.

"Wally, why the hell are you here? And why'd you bring _him_?" Sara yelled, lowering her staff. Mick, predictably, didn't lower his gun.

Poor Jack was just too overwhelmed. His eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed. Thankfully, I caught him before he fell.

"Now look what you've done!" I cried mockingly. "He's out cold!" Sara and Mick just glared at me. "Can I come inside, at least?"

"We aren't stopping you," Sara said.

"Can you at least help me carry him inside, Mick?" I asked.

"Can't you do it?" Mick growled.

"I would, but my arm hurts." I motioned to the blood seeping through my makeshift vest bandage.

"Damn it, West, how'd you manage to get yourself shot?" Sara cried.

"That goddamn time assassin."

"Care to elaborate?" Sara said, her hands on her hips.

"As long as Gideon stitches me up."

"Of course she's gonna—" She trailed off and sighed. "Rory, grab the kid."

"Which one?"

"The one that's passed out cold, genius." While Mick grabbed the unconscious Jack, I walked into the Waverider, the pain in my shoulder slowly coming back as the adrenaline faded.

"I might need an Advil, too." I joked.

Sara glanced at me, then at my wound. "Wally, you're gonna need the whole damn bottle."

 **1,215 words. I dunno if that's good or bad.**

 **I quite like this chapter. What about you guys? Like this chapter? The whole story? Is it crap? Why don't y'all review this thing? pLeAsE?**

 **Also: should I move this out of the crossover section?**

 **-Alex**


	8. The World Will Know

**I'm back-again! I've actually posted somewhat quick this time, _and_ it's a semi-long chapter. That's a new one!**

 **Okay, this one's a bit of a filler chapter, and a good portion of it is The World Will Know and the scene before it, but...eh.**

 **Also, thank you to SynchronizedFireflies for the first review(and a follow)!**

 **So, yeah. Read and _please_ review!  
 _Please_?**

 **-Alex**

" _You should be good to go, Mr. West._ " Gideon said.

I rolled my shoulder and started to rise. "Thanks, Gideon."

I spotted Sara at the door with her arms crossed. "Hello, Sara. I'm just about to get going. Have you flashed Jack yet?"

She raised her eyebrows. "You just got _shot_ , Wally. You took a bullet on purpose!"

"So getting Jack Kelly killed was a better option?"

"You could've pushed him out of the way."

"I really couldn't."

"You can run faster than a bullet!"

"From a gun from 2018. This gun was from the future. The bullet was going insanely fast."

"I still think you didn't have to get shot."

"It was a split-second decision. Besides, I had a job to do. I still do."

"Someone else can do it."

"Ah, yes, Mick hanging out with a bunch of newsboys will go insanely well."

"Wally."

"Sara."

"Why does this mean so much to you?" She cried, throwing her hands up.

"Because!" I sighed. "I saw Barry the other night."

" _What_?"

"He accidentally ran back in time, fighting the Thinker. Ran past where I'm staying. I followed him. You know what I saw, Sara? He had a thick, nasty scar running down his face. Why? Because some ass decided to make a quick buck assassinating a kid. Multiple kids, if I fail with this. And how'd this affect Barry? He had to work as a newsie, probably after his mom died. As a kid, he got in a knife fight. If I take a bullet-spoiler alert, I heal fast-and I keep protecting those kids? I save millions, maybe billions, of other kids!" I cried.

Sara hung her head. "I'm sorry, Wally." She looked at me. "Go on. You've got a strike to protect."

"What'd you do with Jack?" I asked.

"He's in your room," She said, stepping out of my way. She tossed me the memory flasher. "You okay to do that?"

"I'll be fine," I hoped I wasn't lying.

 *** * * # * * ***

"Jack!" I yelled.

"'Ey, Speedy, what happened?" Jack grumbled, blinking the unconsciousness out of his eyes. And then it all came back to him. "AH! Where the hell is we?! Y-youse did that thing…You was cracklin'…Do youse wanna try and explain that?"

"Not particularly," I muttered, and Jack crossed his arms and glared at me. "It's a long, complicated story."

"I got time."

"No, we don't. The boys are waiting."

"I ain't goin' nowhere 'till you tells me what's goin' on."

"Fine," I grumbled, already regretting what I had to do. I pulled out the memory flasher. "It's all right here."

"You's delusional, Speedy. That's nothin' but a hunk of metal."

"I'm sorry, Jack." I blurted.

"Why?" He chuckled. "For gettin' shot? 'Cause you know that ain't your—" I pulled the trigger before he could finish. "Hey, Speedy, where is we?" Jack said blankly.

"Come on, Jack, we've got to go to work."

"A'ight."

I picked Jack up, and I ran all the way to the distribution square, stopping a block away.

"Jack!" I snapped my fingers in front of his face.

"What happened? Wasn't we just down there?"

"You completely zoned out," I lied, "lost in the dream world."

"Huh," He looked like he wasn't exactly sure if he believed me, but couldn't remember anything else.

As soon as we walked into the square, Jack and I noticed all the boys standing around in a cluster. "A'ight, what are you all waitin' around for?"

"Hey, Jack, get a look at this!" Crutchie pointed to where they wrote the headlines.

"Like Pulitzer don't make enough already." Romeo spat.

"Papes for the newsies!" Weasel called from the distribution window.

Jack blew a raspberry. "'Ey, relax. It's gotta be a gag."

"Line up, boys!" Weasel yelled.

Jack sauntered over to the distribution window. "Yeah, nice joke, Weasel. You really had the fellas goin'. I'll take a hundred. Be on my way."

Weasel smirked sadistically. "A hundred'll cost you 60."

The boys were all yelling, voicing their dissent. "I ain't payin' no 60."

"Then make way for someone who will."

"You bet. Me and the fella's will take a hike over to The Journal!"

Specs and another group of newsies came running in. "Hey, hey, hey, hey! I'll save you the walk. They upped their price, too." Specs said.

"Then we'll take our business to The Sun!" Jack yelled.

"Same all around town. New day. New price." Weasel called mockingly.

"Hey, why the jack-up?" Jack said, storming up to the window.

"For them answers, you gotta ask further up the food chain. So, are you buyin' or movin' on?"

Jack smacked the lockbox. "C'mere, fellas." We all crowded around Jack, who sat on a stack of papers.

"They can't just do that, can they?" Finch cried.

"Hey, why not? It's their paper." Race replied.

"It's their World," Crutchie added.

"Ain't we got no rights?" Henry yelled.

"We got the right to starve," Crutchie said. "Let's just get our papes and hit the street while we can." We all started shouting, our voices layered on one another's.

"Hey, hey!" Jack yelled. "No one's payin' no new nothin'."

"You got an idea?" One newsie cried.

"Keep your shirt on. Lemme think this through."

We all started yelling over each other again, until Les pushed us all away, yelling: "Stop crowding him! Let the man work it through!"

Jack just sat there, trying to find a way to keep his newsies safe.

"Hey, Jack, are you still thinkin'?" Les said softly.

"Sure he is." Race smirked. "Can't you smell smoke?"

"Hey, hey, hey, c'mere." Jack said suddenly. We all gathered around him, desperate for an answer. Of course, I already knew it… "Hurry up. A'ight, here's the deal. If we don't sell papes, then _nobody_ sells papes. No one gets to that window 'till they put the price back where it belongs."

"You mean, like a strike?" Davey said.

"Well, hey, y-you heard Davey. We're on strike!" Jack yelled, and the other boys started yelling again. "We shut down this place like them workers shut down the trolleys!"

"And the cops'll bust our heads!" Finch cried. "Half them strikers is laid up with broke bones!"

"The cops won't care 'bout a buncha kids. Right, Davey?" Jack asked.

"Leave me out of it. I'm just here trying to feed my family." Davey said and started pulling Les away by his arm. That really pissed Jack off.

"What, and the rest of us is here on playtime?" Jack spat. He got up into Davey's face. "Hey, hey. Just 'cause we only make pennies doesn't give them the right to rub our noses into it!"

"It doesn't matter. You can't strike. You're not a union." Davey retorted.

"What if I says we is?" Jack asked.

"There's a lot of stuff you gotta have to be a union. Like, membership."

"What do you call these guys?" Jack waved in our general direction, and we started whistling and hooting.

"And officers."

"I nominate Jack president!" Crutchie yelled, and we voiced our assent.

"Gee, I'm touched," Jack said.

"How about a statement of purpose?"

"I musta left that in my other pants."

"What's a statement of purpose?" Race asked hesitantly.

"A reason for forming the union," Davey said.

"What reason did the trolley workers have?" Jack cried.

"I don't know. Wages, work hours, safety on the job."

"Who don't need that?!" We all yelled our assent again. "I bet if your father had a union, you wouldn't need to be out here sellin' papes right now, huh?"

"Yeah."

"So, our union is hereby formed to watch each other's backs!" He hopped back onto his original perch. "Union'd we stand. Hey, that's not bad. Somebody betta write that down."

"Well, I've got a pencil!" Les called.

"Meet our Secretary of State! Now what?"

"If you want a strike, the membership's got to vote," Davey said. I didn't understand why Davey was so reluctant about this. Why he was so blatant earlier.

"Okay, so we'll vote. What do you say, fellas? The choice is yours. Do we roll over and let Pulitzer pick our pockets, or do we strike?" Jack said, his voice getting louder with each sentence.

"STRIKE!" We all yelled.

"Yeah!" Jack shouted. "You heard the voice of the membership. The Newsies of Lower Manhattan are officially on strike!"

"Yeah!"

"What's next?" Jack asked.

"Wouldn't the strike be more effective if someone in charge knew about it?" Crutchie pointed out.

"Well, it'd be a pleasure to tell Weasel myself!" Race yelled.

"And who tells Pulitzer, huh?" Jack said. "Davey?"

"I don't know," He said, and then his emotional barrier melted. "I guess you do, Mr. President!"

"That's right." And then Davey finally joined us in our huddle. "Hey, _we_ do." Jack stopped. "So, what…what do we tell 'im?"

"Well, the newspaper owners got to respect your rights as employees." Davey started.

"Yeah, yeah. Pulitzer and Hearst gotta respect the rights of the workin' kids of this city!"

"Well, they can't just change the rules when they feel like it!"

"Yeah, that's right! We do the work! So, we get a say!"

"Yeah!" The rest of us shouted.

Davey joined Jack on his stack of papers. "We got a union!"

"Pulitzer and Hearst, they think we're nothin'. Are we nothin'?" Jack yelled.

"NO!"

"They need to understand that we're not enslaved to them! We are free agents!" Davey cried.

"Pulitzer and Hearst, they think they got us. Do they got us?"

"NO!"

"We're a union now. The Newsboy Union, and we mean business!"

" _Even though we ain't got hats or badges, we're a union just by sayin' so!_ "

" _And The World will know!_ "

 _Oh look,_ I thought, _they're singing again. Time for me to sit in a corner._

"Hey, Sara," I said into my comms once I made it into an out-of-the-way spot.

" _Wally?_ " She replied.

"Nah, it's some random newsboy who stole my comms."

" _You do realize that I'm still your boss, right?_ "

I gasped mockingly. "Don't put me on toilet-scrubbing duty, _capítan_!"

" _Next time you get shot, you can speed-heal._ "

"You've cut me deep, captain! Like a bullet!"

I could hear her laughing over the connection. " _Man, only you would make a bullet pun an hour after getting shot._ "

"What can I say? I'm a man of many talents."

" _You better not have been picking up any new habits._ " She warned.

"You mean the thick accent wouldn't be appreciated too much?"

" _Mmm, maybe. But incoherent shrieking, not so much._ "

"Okay, incoherent shrieking, really?" I felt the And then I heard it in the background. "Well, we can add that to our list."

" _What list?_ "

"I mean, there's got to be some list for _that_ , somewhere."

" _That's quite a possibility._ " She stopped. " _But_ why _are_ _they shrieking in the first place?_ "

"The strike has begun!" I said dramatically.

I heard Sara laugh over the comms. " _Wally, that's the fourth shriek I've heard in half as many minutes._ "

"Well, thank you for this absolutely _scintillating_ conversation, but I've gotta run." I said. The boys were about to leave, to yell(well, sing) at people somewhere else.

" _Why? What do you see?_ "

"Bad choice of words, and pun not intended. The boys are leaving, so I am, too."

" _Stay safe, Wally. Please don't die._ " Sara said.

"I'll try," I promised, and was about to shut off my comms when Nate's voice crackled in.

" _Hey, is that Wally? Can I talk to him? I have so many questions about the newsboys-"_ He started.

"Good-bye, Nate."

" _Aw, c'mon, man!_ " I just cut him off and ran after the newsies.

 **1,942! So many words! Well, not really, but on docs this is ten whole pages. _Ten_. This entire story is a little over 50. 50! I think it's the longest thing I've ever written. Well, my Circe's Revenge is longer, but that's finished(18,000+). So, yeah. This'll be longer in the end.**

 **And am I the only one who hears random, weird shrieks in The World Will Know? Just me?**

 _ **PLEASE**_ **READ AND REVIEW! I mean, this has only got 141 views! I mean, that's pretty good for the only story in this category, but still. Should I take it out of the crossovers section?**

 **-Alex**


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